Personally, I prefer that little bit of juicy drama to cap off a suspenseful back and forth battle of brawn and brains. I like to be kept guessing, tempted back and forth to jump to the conclusion of which hot hunk is going to reign victorious, only to have my assumptions and predictions called into doubt over and over. Then, once one roaring stud is driving that bus all over his opponent’s bested body, it’s incredibly provocative for me to watch him just mess with the defanged loser. You know, flex in his face. Rip off his trunks. Or, and here’s the topic I’m working a head of steam up about today, toss his broken, once dangerous body across your shoulders and take a victory lap around the ring.

Brad Rochelle looked nothing short of orgasmic pinning beautiful Patrick Donovan in front of a roaring crowd of their peers.

I’m certain that the most satisfying victory lap I’ve ever witnessed is from the opening match of Wrestlefest 2. Moments before being awarded rookie of the year, Brad Rochelle is in a surprisingly tough tussle with then notorious jobber, sexy Patrick Donovan. The stakes are higher than normal because there’s a packed audience of fellow wrestlers watching, critiquing, urging on the boys from ringside. Brad is the it-boy. He’s tanned and phenomenally toned. Fans have been popping their corks uncontrollably for the past year since Brad debuted at BG East. Patrick has been racking up loss after loss, each one seeming to inspire yet a longer line of prospective opponents who want to dig their fingertips into his luscious pecs and make the pretty boy scream. There’s some sweet back and forth to start the match. Patrick is no pushover. But Brad folds baby cakes up like a peanut butter sandwich, pinning Patrick’s shoulders with his noggin nestled nice and tight between Brad’s muscled thighs. Someone eagerly urges Brad to make him squeal. Brad takes the first fall to the applause of his peers, giving the jobber a light slap in the face somewhere between playful and insulting. The fan favorite babyface rising looks like he’s got the jobber’s sweet ass tied up in a bow.

Dazzling babyface totally humiliated by a “jobber.”

And then suddenly Patrick pounces. The lean, handsome stud with mouthwatering pecs flips over his opponent, folding Brad up in the very same, humiliating hold he was just submitted to. Patrick is raging, punching Brad’s ass, calling the jock stud a pussy. There’s laughter from the audience, as it starts to sink in that it-boy Brad Rochelle is currently getting his fantastic ass beat bad. Patrick refuses to relent until Brad is tapping, yelling out his humiliated submission. The boys ringside can hardly believe it, as Patrick pumps his fist in the air and then strolls over to take a seat on the top turnbuckle, soaking in the sight of Brad flat on is back in a pool of sweat, nursing his abused shoulder.

Just because he can.

What happens next? Fuck, I love that suspense. As it turns out, Brad opens up a can of testosterone fueled, face-saving whoop ass to what climaxes to a standing ovation from the hooting audience. He’s working out a little rage at being publicly humiliated. He’s gratuitously brutal, egged on by his bruised ego and the cheers of the audience. Patrick is laid waste, and Brad hoists pec boy across he shoulders and jogs around the ring as the boys at ringside go wild. Brad’s face beams, feeling the victory deep down. He laughs at his total mastery, his complete ownership of the hot punk who a few minutes ago was calling him a pussy and punching him in the ass. Shimmering in sweat, flexed, magnificently victorious, he takes another lap just because the moment is so fucking sweet he needs to savor it.

The face of total victory.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more titillating victory lap. But I typically love one when I see it. It’s less compelling for me in a squash. When a boy’s been owned from start to finish, there’s less plot, less resolution of homoerotic wrestling tension wrapped up in a victory lap. But yeah, when all is said and done, it’s definitely value added for me to see a winner just fuck with his battered prey. Just because he can. Just because it feels good to demonstrate that he can do whatever the fuck he wants with all that potential, all that bluster and posing and prospective danger wrapped up in the muscled beauty beaten and now at his mercy.

It’s my birthday! I love my birthdays. I have friends who dread them, but I’ve never had a birthday that I didn’t look forward to. You know what they say about the alternative. Another year older is another year not being dead yet, and I love life. So bring on spanking!

It must have been Peter Bishop’s birthday when he wrestled Dino Phillipsin BG East’s X-Fights 11

Normally, spanking isn’t exactly my thing. I mean, physical domination and humiliation works for me (like I need to tell a neverland reader that!), but spanking for the sake of spanking isn’t at the top of my list of what I need. But a birthday isn’t a typical day, and particularly after searching for some hot photos of homoerotic wrestlers leaving a handprint on some shiny, bare assess, I know what I’m wishing for as I blow out my birthday cake candles.

I had decided to come up with a list (because I seem to be all about lists and awards lately) of the homoerotic wrestlers I’d most prefer to deliver my whacks. The image of Brad Rochelle’s fingerprints outlined in angry red across Billyboy’s lucky ass in BG East’s Demolition 2 quickly popped into my mind. I’d lie about it being my birthday once a month if it meant I’d be forced to assume the position across Brad’s thigh!

The image of ripped, studly twink Skip Vance landing a cracking open palm across his lover’s naked ass in BG East’s Sexy Showdown 6 works for me as well, with extra credit for the fact that the lanky lover getting spanked here is none other than reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Christian Taylor (aka Chris Cox). The sweetest birthday present of all would probably be joining in on this intensely erotic homo wrestling fun, trading places with each of these gorgeous boys giving and taking my butt clenching smacks!

Of course, Skip taking his whacks is also an inspiring sight, with handsome hottie Mike Martin sitting on his face and yanking down his trunks. Yep, this would be my choice of the preferred position for me to be forced to assume for my birthday spanking.

But all right, if I have to pick the one homoerotic wrestling hunk to make celebrating hurt so good… if I’m backed into a corner and required to pick just one out of the lineup of my favorite wrestlers to star in my own personal spanking birthday fantasy, truth be told, I’d pick my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler (non-pornboy), Kid Karisma. The reasons are many, but first and foremost, Kid K clearly enjoys the task… a lot! His evil laughter at yanking Z-Man’s trunks up his crack and making the playboy model spasm in shock at the hard swat sends chills down my spine while warming my crotch delightfully.

Headscissors-as-excuse for an ass slapping.

Kid Karisma absolutely tenderized the twinky ass of fierce little Len Harder for boatloads of Florida Fun. From just about every angle, Kid K beat on Len’s skinny ass relentlessly.

And as Kid Karisma himself made quite clear, he’s nothing if not the life of the party. So definitely, to celebrate my day I’m thinking of a certain red-headed, musclebound, freckle faced, bubble-butted beauty to pin me down, sit on my face, and pound out slow, nothing-held-back whacks across my bare ass, raising a perfectly harmonized chorus of my cries of pain and Kid K’s rumbles of sadistic laughter.

Then let’s turn down the lights, turn up the house music, and dance until I drop on my bright red, aching, happy ass in exhaustion! Life is good!

The Canadian women’s hockey team has been criticized for beating their first round opponents 18 – 0. It’s not in the spirit of the Olympics, so the story goes, to humiliate your opponents. Just beat them. What is it that goes into deciding to score those 5 goals in the 3rd period? It’s simply not about winning anymore. It’s about statement. Frankly, it’s not really about making a statement to your opponent, really. It’s about making a statement to potential opponents who might be considering taking you on. Show no mercy in utterly humiliating your outclassed opponent and tell the world you’ll fuck up anyone else who dares to go toe to toe with you, too.

A recent conversation at Ringside at Skull Island made me think some more about the wrestling squash match. Some folks just aren’t into the squash. Seeing one man completely outclass his opponent on the way to devastating humiliation doesn’t turn everyone crank.

Most often, though, it turns mine. For me, it isn’t that there’s no competitive spirit in a squash. The competition just isn’t all happening in the ring. The humiliating squash is the message sent to the arrogant punks sizing you up back in the locker room later on. When Billyboy took a jab at Brad Rochelle’s balls, Brad completely demolished the doe-eyed hunk. Brad tortured the punk far past the point of necessity as a message to the next piece of shit that might think it was worth a stab to use Brad’s testicles like a speed bag. The testosterone laced kink is the sneering challenge to the hot shot who thinks they’re ready to take you on next. Just try me, and you’ll see me unleash the merciless destruction on your ass that I’m unleashing on this piece of shit.

It’s a fascinating, titillating sight to see an eager/dumbass young hopeful climb into the ring when the rest of us know that he’s got no chance. It doesn’t have to be a mystery to be hot in my book. When Jeff Phoenix showed up without his partner for his tag team match against Jose and Cruze, the hardbody hunk was all mouth. He boasted he could beat both heels by himself. You knew and I knew that Jeff was in for complete destruction. Jose knew it. Cruze knew it. Hell, for all his bluster, Jeff knew it. The heels took their time in systematically double teaming Jeff’s muscle ass like artists, illustrating that it’s not the science of the knowing that always matters, just like it isn’t strictly the competition that tells the story in the ring. Sometimes, it’s the artful execution and merciless thrill that makes it worth it.

The demolition as art can be a beautiful thing that revs my engine. Kid Leopard’s skills have always been awe inspiring. It’s not like we can’t tell when he steps into the ring with another eager/dumbass musclehead destined for humiliation. We watch because we want to see just how he’ll go about it this time. In what way will he twist and torture the stud? What gravity defying position will he force the unsuspecting blowhard into, and how long will he toy with his victim before forcing him to finally scream in submission? How will he make us gasp and his victim cry?

Kid Vicious is the same sort of battler. The smile on his face as he crushesJoe Driver’s hhhhhuge package under his boot makes me a little lightheaded. KV sells his sadism with such mastery. His inevitable dismantling of the fresh meat dangled in front of his face is never seriously in doubt. It’s his style, his savagery, and the systematic ownership of his opponents that keeps me coming back for more. Like several voices at the BG East listserv, I’m all for a long overdue KV spotlight. I just vote to throw him at least a couple bright-eyed, hardbodied rookies who actually think that they have a chance when they step in the ring. Their shock will be my happy ending.

Finally, Mitch’smotel match against Jeremy Burk comes to mind as one more squash done right, in my book. The reigning champion for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy title, Mitch is relentless. Jeremy is his plaything from the moment he steps into the room. Mitch overpowers him and completely owns him just about every step of the way. And I turn every page eagerly, not because the climax is somehow in doubt, not because the “what” of the plot keeps me guessing, but because the how is so delightful to see unfold. Spank that punk’s ass with his own shoe, Mitch! Suspend him upside down with his head squeezed between your knees. Do those push ups on top of him, grinding your crotch into his face over and over again. I knew you could do it. I just wanted to watch. It may not be the spirit of competition, but it gets me off.